


Benefits

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Coping, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Kissing, Sex, Steve and natasha - Freeform, im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8238631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: Steve and Natasha are just friends. Most of the time.





	

Steve stretched a little in his chair, struggling to maintain full focus on the long-winded brief that Coulson was delivering. Natasha was next to him, sat back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other and a distracted frown creasing her eyebrows. Steve loved that face, adorably grumpy and all knitted together. He smiled at her. She didn’t turn but the corner of her mouth turned up into a fiery smirk.

“Wipe that smile off your face, Rogers,” She mumbled.

Steve huffed a quiet laugh before turning back to face the front. Coulson was still talking over the new organisations scheme, designed to better ‘streamline duties to avoid chaos.” He shot a withering look at Tony when he said ‘chaos’. Steve let his attention comfortably wander, between listening to the sound of Clint clicking his tongue out of boredom and the pattern on Wanda’s notebook. Sam was rolling his pen back and forth on the tabletop.

Rapidly, his attention was dragged back. Natasha ran a maroon-painted fingernail up his thigh, tracing the seam of his jeans up and back down again, her eyes still front and her face still enigmatically unreadable. Steve shifted in his seat uncomfortably, clearing his throat and putting his hand over Natasha’s and moving it back down to the safer territory of his knee. She raised her eyebrow and mover her hand straight back up, pushing her thumb into his waistband and stifling a grin by biting the inside of her cheek.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve whispered, “You terrible, _terrible_ woman.”

Nat chuckled darkly, making a note of something in her own notebook and sliding it to Steve.

_‘Wait until Coulson is done. Then your office.’_

Steve nodded, feeling his cheeks colour. Nat continued to run her thumb torturously slowly through his waistband, carefully hidden by the table. He felt his jeans tighten slowly. Evidently, so did Natasha. She took advantage of it, shifting her fingers just enough to rub his hardening length, the friction of fabric against sensitive skin, making his toes curl against the inside of his shoes.

“So, I am hoping that this has been informative, and that the new protocol will suit you all…are you okay Captain?” Coulson asked.

Steve looked up sharply, feeling his cheeks heat up and his ears flush.

“Yeah! Yeah, wonderful. Can we turn the air-con on?” he grinned.

Natasha stalled her hand and bit her lip, looking away and somehow managing to keep her face totally straight.

“Good, um, sure. Okay guys, you’re dismissed,” Coulson said slowly, a hint of suspicion on his face.

Steve stood up quick enough that the table caught on his thighs and wobbled. He turned and left the room, tucking his hands into his pockets to disguise his arousal and making his way to his office.

He and Natasha’s relationship was unofficial, unknown, and unruly. There was a love there, sure, but neither of them were sure of whether it crossed from friendship to otherwise. The heat, however, was certain. Rough and desperate, not spoken about until neither of them could ignore it. Sometimes it came from adrenaline, after missions or sparring. Sometimes it was anger. There were some times where anger, from anything, would bubble over and turn to passion with no explanation, no questions asked. However it happened, it was something they both needed.

Nat followed him into his office, shoving him against the wall before shutting and locking the door.

“Coulson called your tell,” Nat chuckled, unbuttoning her shirt and tossing it in a coiled heap of plaid onto the office chair, “You blush.”

Steve didn’t reply, pressing his lips roughly in an open-mouthed kiss against Natasha’s collarbone and pulling her forward.

“Your fault,” he mumbled, letting her head lull back into his hand and running his mouth over her exposed throat.

Natasha coughed a laugh, yanking off Steve’s belt and unbuttoning his jeans.

“Jesus,” He hissed running his hands up the back of Nat’s thighs, bunching the grey jersey skirt she was wearing up to hip level.

“You’re too damn eager,” She scolded, backing him to the desk.

Steve nodded in honest agreement and lifted her up. He swiped his hand over the desk, shoving the two books and a jacket that were resting there onto the floor before setting Nat down, pushing her back so that she was lying on her back with her ankles linked around his waist.

He pushed her skirt further up, peppering kisses up over her thighs before stopping before stopping and moving his attention to her stomach, letting his hands roam alongside his mouth as he sucked bruises into the soft skin.

They had had very few missions lately. They had all relaxed a little and it showed in different ways. For Clint, it was staying in sweatpants all day, for Sam it was NBA season. For Natasha, it was a calming of her exercise regime, a softening and broadening around her hips, that as subtle as it was, Steve loved. The feeling of her body yielding more to his touch, the way her cheeks looked fuller and younger, the way her breasts spilled over the moulded cups of her bra a little when she leaned. Softness and fullness.

Natasha ran her hands up Steve’s back, under his t-shirt, pulling him over her until their lips met. Finger knotted in his hair, she deepened the kiss, the hot slide of tongue to tongue making heat pool dangerously low in his stomach.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” Steve muttered distractedly, adjusting his jeans and sliding the blue thong that Natasha was wearing down her legs until it dangles loosely off of one foot.

“You…seriously,” he continued, trailing kisses southwards, his teeth grazing her hipbones slightly.

Natasha gasped hotly, her hands tightening in Steve’s hair as his head settled between her legs, his tongue circling the bundle of nerves at her sex and causing a delicious suction. Her toes curled involuntarily and she arched her back off of the desk, almost feline as the coiled under the motion of Steve’s mouth.

“Steve, Steve, Steve…” She whispered hoarsely, the natural husk in her voice gaining friction as Steve’s tongue worked faster and deeper.

The Widow propped her legs on his shoulders to hold him pinned in place.

“Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop,” She moaned, punching his shoulder as the pressure gave way, exquisite pleasure bolting down her legs and making her breath fall short and rapid.

Steve stood straight, closer to her, pulling her by her thighs so that their hips aligned.

“If I didn’t consider kicking you in the face thirty time a day, I would marry you,” Nat groaned, letting her head fall back against the table.

Steve breathed a laugh before running his fingers up and down between her legs, the sensitive skin pink and swollen from contact and friction. Goosebumps ran up Natasha’s arms at the touch.

“Ready?” Steve asked.

Nat nodded, closing her eyes as Steve filled her up.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Nat keened, gripping the edge of the table as the rhythm built.

“Don’t bring him into this, he wouldn’t approve,” Steve muttered dryly, flashing a toothy grin at the redhead before speeding up.

The tight, wet heat around him was growing almost overwhelming, his heartbeat racing in his chest and his hairline damp and sticking to his forehead. The sounds that Nat was making did not help either, nor did the way her breasts rocked with the rhythm of his thrusts, the scratches she was leaving on his shoulders, or the pink flush of arousal that was spreading over her cheeks and chest, highlighting dances of freckles .

“I’m not gonna’ win any awards for stamina, princess,” Steve moaned gently, his grip bruising the pale skin on her thighs.

“Finish when you need to,” Nat allowed, her voice tight with her approaching climax, “I’m losing…”

Steve closed his eyes and let the rhythm, the friction and the smacking of skin on skin rule his senses until he felt the tell-tale tightening around him. Natasha moaned a string of fast Russian into Steve’s neck, pulling him forward and trapping his thrusts with her legs around his waist.

He let himself go, toppling headlong into climax with her, his own moans muffled with a well-timed kiss.

Breathless and spent, the pair fell still, the disarray around them ignored.

“See,” Steve sighed, “If we were married, it wouldn’t be as fun.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
